


No Charge

by notjustmom



Series: What if... [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, John is a street artist, M/M, Sherlock is Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7337425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if John is a street artist who offers to draw Sherlock...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Charge

It had been a bad week, no cases, even the cold files were beyond dull. Sherlock walked through the park for once, hoping to see something, anything...diff-

"Please, stop." A voice called out. Sherlock turned, even though he knew the voice couldn't be speaking to him.

"Yeah, you, long, tall beauty in the coat and curls."

Now Sherlock knew the voice was taking the piss, but, at least it had possibilities.

He was blond, turning silver, though he had barely turned, what...hmmm..

"Forty, just yesterday."

Military -

"Former, was a -"

"Surgeon, good one -"

"Invalided out, yeah, I was good."

"Brilliant, in fact."

"Sit, please?" John pushed forward his stool.

Sherlock looked at the easel and the man's blackened fingertips.

"No charge, you just have the most intriguing face I've seen in a long time."

"And?"

"And you look like you need something, or someone..."

"How would you know? How -"

"Been there, know what it's like to be bored. You hate being bored...more than anything."

At some point, Sherlock sat and the artist started to sketch. For once Sherlock just did nothing, thought nothing, just sat as the man at easel told him his life story.

"You - you are Uni trained, I'd say Oxford, but I'm thinking you went against family tradition and went to Cambridge...you went early, started at fifteen...look up a bit, eyes up...perfect, right there...two degrees, Chemistry and Poetry...interesting...and you can pick up languages as easily as most people pick up a hot blonde at a pub, you're up to seven...no eight...plus the dead ones -nope, don't move. Oh man, the light...your eyes, they just...fuck, they weren't blue a minute ago...you like, no - love puzzles, have very little use for people, dogs...now dogs are a different story...shit, it was one dog - sorry, and you'd love to tell me to piss off right now, but you don't want, no, you can't move, not because I told you not to, but because I'm the most interesting thing you've seen in weeks. And you're afraid -"

"Of?"

"This."

The artist put down his charcoal, stood up from his bench and moved to block the sun from Sherlock's blown eyes. He placed his soft, smudged hand in Sherlock's curls, and tugged him into a kiss.

"I don't want anything from you, all I really wanted was to draw you, see what all that energy would look like if stilled."

"And?" Sherlock finally found his misplaced voice.

"Beautiful, unique, and astonished, why astonished?"

"No one has ever -"

"Shit, I'm the first to kiss those lips? I should have at least asked you out for a coffee first. At least asked your name."

Sherlock removed his glove and put out his hand, "Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective."

The artist grinned and looked at his hand, grabbed a cleanish rag from his box and wiped it before taking Sherlock's hand in his, "John, John Watson...formerly many things."

"Let me buy you a coffee? I was going to suggest something stronger, but it is only 9 am, so how about an Full English instead? My landlady, though she claims to be 'not my housekeeper' makes a decent one, I don't usually eat, so she would love to cook for someone."

John's eyes met Sherlock's and they grinned at each other. "That sounds amazing, let me grab my gear, yeah?"

"May I see -?"

"Oh, yeah, course."

Sherlock walked to the other side of the easel to see a face older than he ever thought he'd be, all sharp lines except for his mess of curls and his mouth, his mouth was...he turned to look at John and the artist nodded, "yes, exquisite. You have- " his words were lost to history as Sherlock used those exquisite lips as an invitation to the man who from that day forward kept him from being bored.


End file.
